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fandomweekly2017-02-09 07:30 pm
toffeecat) wrote in fandomweekly2017-02-09 07:30 pm
Entry tags:
[#032] Nightmare's Lair (Dragon Age)
Theme Prompt: #032 - Phobia
Title: Nightmare's Lair
Fandom: Dragon Age
Rating/Warnings: G/None
Bonus: No
Word Count: 959
Summary: Everything was so off and weird and wrong, and they were in the midst of it. As usual.
They had spent too much time in the Fade already. Wandering through the twisted landscape again almost made her glad she had no memories of the first time she had been here. It was easy for her to understand why the Chantry had decreed walking the Fade as the Second Sin; she did not need to believe in the Maker to know they did not belong to this place. The sooner they found a way out, the better for all of them.
Ellana ground her teeth. The anchor in her hand flared more often and more painfully than before, green sputters of energy falling to the ground like rain drops. Here, rain might even look like this. Everything was so off and weird and wrong, and they were in the midst of it. As usual.
She looked around. The others weren't faring much better than her; on the contrary, they were troubled keeping up to her pace. Fear was written across all their faces, so obvious as if painted with bright letters on their foreheads. Fear and exhaustion. Even Hawke seemed quieter than before, her endless stream of jokes now run dry.
They needed to get out of here. Soon. For the first time in a while, she wished Solas would be here with them. He would have known what to do. He always knew what to do.
But after their fight the night before, she had been hesitant to ask him, and she went to Dorian instead. Another thing that would keep her from sleeping now; another horror added to the crowd of nightmares that already chased her from her chamber more often of late.
Her bare face still felt cold, naked without her vallaslin...
She shook her head, trying to ban the unwelcome thoughts from her mind. They had more important things to focus on than her... whatever it was; she did not even know herself. And now, she might never truly figure it out. She could not say if it was for worse, though.
Instead, she tightened her grip on her daggers, so much her knuckles turned white, and took point. It was the least she could do. One of her duties as a leader, was it not? Protecting her people, as she should have protected her clan?
The gloominess of this place had suppressed any need to chat with her companions, and her companions seemed to feel similarly; silently passing slick, green rocks, wading through knee-deep ponds that reflected their faces as grotesquely distorted grimaces. Dorian's wisps, small purple spheres drifting through the air between them, were the only distraction from the desolation.
As was fighting demons along the way.
She had gotten used to them and their dreadful presence. As much as one could ever get used to demons, anyway. But she found it easier to slay them while she was awake than struggle against them and their whispered promises in her dreams.
As a new wave of them crawled up the hill towards them, she felt her blood freeze inside her. Those were different.
She knew how to deal with demons; in a world that spew them from the air she had to to survive. The series of attacks, parries and evasive steps was almost like a well-practiced dance. Each pattern had burnt itself into her mind through repitition, and she would adjust her own moves accordingly. It made mindless fighting almost easy.
Her hands started to shake violently, and one of her dagger slipped through her fingers, clattering loudly on the ground; her other gripped her knife so tightly that her nails dug into her palm. All but rooted to the ground, desperately gasping for air in shallow breaths, she watched the horde of them approach. Spiders, nug-sized spiders, scuttled towards them, towards her, and all she wanted was-
"Dash, dart, run from here, again, spiders, spiders everywhere, scratching me, biting me, eating me alive and where are the others-"
"Cole!"
Her choked outcry was enough to silence his breathless, higher-pitching ramblings; now was not the time to relive her childhood, and not that trauma in particular. The spirit had appeared next to her, and offered her the dagger she had previously dropped, hilt forward. His pale blue eyes did not leave hers for a moment as she took it back.
"Spiders, maggots, rats... They're not real, it's just masks they wear. You are stronger than masks."
After a final, almost scrutinising look, he ducked to the side, his face once again shaded by the wide brim of his hat. Within the blink of an eye, he disappeared.
Somehow, he always found a way to calm her, albeit only a little. Even though he felt more uncomfortable than any of the others, he still made sure everyone was alright. Her lips tugged up into a small smile despite herself, as her breathing slowed down to a normal rythm.
"Thank you, Cole," she whispered softly to herself.
Ellana readied her weapons. Both daggers drawn, she would face them; not only because it was not really a choice she could make. She had to be strong. It was easier to swallow her panic when others needed her.
And she was not alone. Shooting glances to her sides, she saw her party members drawing their weapons, determined as ever. With them by her side, she did not have to be afraid. She dreaded the next time she would be too exhausted to evade sleep; the battles that would follow were hers to fight, on her own. But now, she was safe.
Deep within her she was certain the worst was yet to come. The drawling, disembodied voice taunting them the further they got promised as much. And they would be prepared.
She would be prepared.
Title: Nightmare's Lair
Fandom: Dragon Age
Rating/Warnings: G/None
Bonus: No
Word Count: 959
Summary: Everything was so off and weird and wrong, and they were in the midst of it. As usual.
They had spent too much time in the Fade already. Wandering through the twisted landscape again almost made her glad she had no memories of the first time she had been here. It was easy for her to understand why the Chantry had decreed walking the Fade as the Second Sin; she did not need to believe in the Maker to know they did not belong to this place. The sooner they found a way out, the better for all of them.
Ellana ground her teeth. The anchor in her hand flared more often and more painfully than before, green sputters of energy falling to the ground like rain drops. Here, rain might even look like this. Everything was so off and weird and wrong, and they were in the midst of it. As usual.
She looked around. The others weren't faring much better than her; on the contrary, they were troubled keeping up to her pace. Fear was written across all their faces, so obvious as if painted with bright letters on their foreheads. Fear and exhaustion. Even Hawke seemed quieter than before, her endless stream of jokes now run dry.
They needed to get out of here. Soon. For the first time in a while, she wished Solas would be here with them. He would have known what to do. He always knew what to do.
But after their fight the night before, she had been hesitant to ask him, and she went to Dorian instead. Another thing that would keep her from sleeping now; another horror added to the crowd of nightmares that already chased her from her chamber more often of late.
Her bare face still felt cold, naked without her vallaslin...
She shook her head, trying to ban the unwelcome thoughts from her mind. They had more important things to focus on than her... whatever it was; she did not even know herself. And now, she might never truly figure it out. She could not say if it was for worse, though.
Instead, she tightened her grip on her daggers, so much her knuckles turned white, and took point. It was the least she could do. One of her duties as a leader, was it not? Protecting her people, as she should have protected her clan?
The gloominess of this place had suppressed any need to chat with her companions, and her companions seemed to feel similarly; silently passing slick, green rocks, wading through knee-deep ponds that reflected their faces as grotesquely distorted grimaces. Dorian's wisps, small purple spheres drifting through the air between them, were the only distraction from the desolation.
As was fighting demons along the way.
She had gotten used to them and their dreadful presence. As much as one could ever get used to demons, anyway. But she found it easier to slay them while she was awake than struggle against them and their whispered promises in her dreams.
As a new wave of them crawled up the hill towards them, she felt her blood freeze inside her. Those were different.
She knew how to deal with demons; in a world that spew them from the air she had to to survive. The series of attacks, parries and evasive steps was almost like a well-practiced dance. Each pattern had burnt itself into her mind through repitition, and she would adjust her own moves accordingly. It made mindless fighting almost easy.
Her hands started to shake violently, and one of her dagger slipped through her fingers, clattering loudly on the ground; her other gripped her knife so tightly that her nails dug into her palm. All but rooted to the ground, desperately gasping for air in shallow breaths, she watched the horde of them approach. Spiders, nug-sized spiders, scuttled towards them, towards her, and all she wanted was-
"Dash, dart, run from here, again, spiders, spiders everywhere, scratching me, biting me, eating me alive and where are the others-"
"Cole!"
Her choked outcry was enough to silence his breathless, higher-pitching ramblings; now was not the time to relive her childhood, and not that trauma in particular. The spirit had appeared next to her, and offered her the dagger she had previously dropped, hilt forward. His pale blue eyes did not leave hers for a moment as she took it back.
"Spiders, maggots, rats... They're not real, it's just masks they wear. You are stronger than masks."
After a final, almost scrutinising look, he ducked to the side, his face once again shaded by the wide brim of his hat. Within the blink of an eye, he disappeared.
Somehow, he always found a way to calm her, albeit only a little. Even though he felt more uncomfortable than any of the others, he still made sure everyone was alright. Her lips tugged up into a small smile despite herself, as her breathing slowed down to a normal rythm.
"Thank you, Cole," she whispered softly to herself.
Ellana readied her weapons. Both daggers drawn, she would face them; not only because it was not really a choice she could make. She had to be strong. It was easier to swallow her panic when others needed her.
And she was not alone. Shooting glances to her sides, she saw her party members drawing their weapons, determined as ever. With them by her side, she did not have to be afraid. She dreaded the next time she would be too exhausted to evade sleep; the battles that would follow were hers to fight, on her own. But now, she was safe.
Deep within her she was certain the worst was yet to come. The drawling, disembodied voice taunting them the further they got promised as much. And they would be prepared.
She would be prepared.
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no subject
But I'm still glad it came across the way I wanted it to! It's fun to dabble in new genres every now and then (even if that means the characters have to suffer a bit...) :)